


Silver Bells

by cowboykylux



Series: Zannah's 12 Days of Oneshots [9]
Category: Burn This - Wilson
Genre: Blue Moon 'Verse, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas in New York, F/M, Mild Language, Pale Is Emotional And Has No Idea How To Process It, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:59:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21976237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doin’, out in the city with you like this. Doesn’t know one fuckin’ bit. It’s dark and cold and snowing and he wants nothing more than to just bring you home and make you cry on his cock, but instead you’re walkin’ around with him, hand in hand, arm in arm, whatever. He doesn’t know why you wanna hold onto him like some fuckin’ spider-monkey or something, but. You are.You are and he doesn’t dare let you go.
Relationships: Pale (Burn This)/Reader
Series: Zannah's 12 Days of Oneshots [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1569352
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	Silver Bells

_City sidewalks, busy sidewalks, dressed in holiday style_

_In the air there's a feeling of Christmas_

_Children laughing, people passing, meeting smile after smile_

_And on every street corner you hear…_

He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doin’, out in the city with you like this. Doesn’t know one fuckin’ bit. It’s dark and cold and snowing and he wants nothing more than to just bring you home and make you cry on his cock, but instead you’re walkin’ around with him, hand in hand, arm in arm, whatever. He doesn’t know why you wanna hold onto him like some fuckin’ spider-monkey or something, but. You are.

You are and he doesn’t dare let you go.

You wanted to go into the city. Wanted to go into Manhattan and look at the tree in the plaza, maybe go ice skatin’. There was no fuckin’ way he was going to get on two thin blades and try to balance on a sheet of frozen fuckin’ water, no way. But he’d watch you, if you wanted. He’d do anything you wanted.

The little man on the street-light turns green, and you’re already walking ahead of him, tugging him behind you as he sucks down his cigarette, your hand squeezing his excitedly as you cross the street.

“Is this it?” You ask with eyes wide at the huge display of lights that absolutely covered every available square inch of the buildings that lined each side of the street.

“What, 5th Ave? Yeah, this is it.” He asks, flicks the ash off his cigarette and gives a nasty glare to some schmuck who has the audacity to look at you for too long.

You look good, real good, in your shiny red trench coat that you won’t let him replace, bundled up in a scarf and ear-muffs so you don’t fuckin’ freeze your face off. You turn to glance at him over your shoulder, give him one of those too-warm smiles that makes him sweaty, and he swoops down to plant a kiss to your cheek as the two of you evade getting run down by tourists.

“There’s a lot of people here huh?” You laugh as Pale steers you off to the sidewalk, crowds you up against a light-pole and kisses you nice and proper.

You smile against his lips, still not letting go of his hand, holding his cigarette in the other before flicking the ash and giving it back to him when his tongue starts to get a little too insistent.

“Yeah welcome to Manhattan.” He rolls his eyes and you laugh with a teasing shake of your head, pulling him along the sidewalk.

“Don’t be mean.” You tell him playfully.

“Me?” He asks with mock-surprise, pointing to himself.

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes and Pale feels his whole fuckin’ chest go warm and fuzzy. Always something about you that seems to heat him up inside in more ways than one.

“Can we go look in the windows?” You ask, already trying to look over the heads of the tourists, trying to see the lights and decorations. 

“No.” He says, and you laugh, and pull him along anyway.

_Silver bells, silver bells_

_It's Christmastime in the city_

_Ring-a-ling, hear them ring_

_Soon it'll be Christmas Day_

Pale walks with you hand in hand up and down the street, lookin’ at all the stores.

There’s mechanical santas and reindeer, moving angels and blinking flashing lights. There’s metal snowflakes that glitter and gleam, snowmen that wave and doves that flap their wings. There’s small figurines and nutcrackers and sugar plum fairies and you’ve got your eyes glued to all of it, like you ain’t never seen any of it before.

He thinks maybe you haven’t, wonders why you’re suddenly so interested in it now.

“Hey you know I was reading this thing in the fuckin’ paper at work that it’s the one-hundredth year they’ve been doin’ this shit? Can you believe that? One hundred years of putting up lights in windows on 5th. Macy’s started it way back in ’84, and it’s ’84 again. I wonder if they ever figured they’d be doin’ it for this long. You know, I don’t get why the fuck we had to come all the way out here anyway, aren’t you Jewish?” He asks randomly.

You pause for a moment, squint your eyes to try and see better, before smiling triumphantly and pointing across the street. 

“Look.” You say smugly, a single solitary window decked out in Hanukkah colors and ornaments, an electric menorah with fake flickering flames proudly on display.

“You planted that.” Pale grumbles, smokes his cigarette.

“Mhm, sure.” You tease, but you are only half-listening, having stopped in front of Tiffany’s of all places. “Oh, wow.”

You stop in your tracks once again, something catching your eye.

“What?” Pale asks, immediately interested.

He always has such a hard fuckin’ time getting you to want things, nice things, expensive things. You always tell him no, you don’t need it. No, there’s no point to it. No, you’ve got him, and that’s enough. But he _wants_ you to have expensive pointless needless things because he’s got all this money and no one to spend it on and he wants to spend it on you. So you stopping in front of a store and catching your breath with your eyes wide has him already scanning the display for what could have sparked your own interest.

“Nothing, it’s just so…” You shake your head, already starting to walk away.

“Which?” Pale keeps his grip on you firm, plants his feet and stops you from leaving, not giving a shit about tourists who rush around you, the two of you like stubborn stones in a current.

“It’s nothing, Pale, really – ” You say, but he lets a small (the fuckin’ smallest) smile crack at the corner of his lips and he pulls you back close to him, close enough to his side that he can wind an arm around your middle and keep you from running the fuck off somewhere else.

“Which?” He asks again, softer but insistent, and you sigh, point right up to the glass but not touchin’ it. You didn’t like smudged windows, he knew that.

“That one.” You say, pointing to the mannequin right up front.

It’s wearing a deep blue dress, pinned with a golden brooch that looks like a spiral flower. The dress itself is a glittery fabric, and the brooch has diamonds and sapphires on it and Pale can’t get the picture of you wearin’ in out of his head, and he thinks you look damn good, and he doesn’t even bother looking at the tag because he’s going to get it for you no matter what. 

“You been a good girl this year?” He asks cheekily, kisses the corner of your mouth and you grin into his embrace.

“I don’t know, have I?” You ask, kissing him back and searching his gaze.

“Yeah, you have.” He says with a nod, and you can only blush.

Satisfied for now, Pale lets you lead him further and further down the street, off to see whatever else there is to see.

_Strings of street lights even stop lights blink a bright red and green_

_As the shoppers rush home with their treasures_

_Hear the snow crush see the kids bunch this is Santa's big scene_

_And above all this bustle you hear_

You had dragged Pale into John Wanamaker, and are watching the light show. Pale ain’t so sure how it actually works, but there’s moving pictures and lights up on the screen, lights on the tree, jets of water that spray and music that plays and you and he have a perfect fuckin’ spot right on the second level to see how it all changes.

He’s payin’ much more attention to you, as he always is.

“You didn’t answer me earlier.” He says, as he situates himself better behind you.

He’s got his arms around your middle, his chin resting on the top of your head. Your hands have come up to cover his, and you keep tappin’ his knuckles to the beat of the gentle Christmas music.

He thinks it ain’t so fair, that it’s all about Christmas all month long. Ain’t fair to the folks like you who don’t actually celebrate any of it. But you seem happy enough to appreciate the light show, the spectacle of it all for what it all is.

“Hm?” You ask, craning your neck around to look at him.

Pale’s stunned into silence for a moment just because of how fuckin’ pretty you are. The lights have you washed in all sorts of real nice colors, golds and reds and greens and he kisses you because holy shit, how can he not kiss you? You chuckle against his lips but keep the kiss chaste, much to his disappointment.

You’re both surrounded by people and he knows that you know that he doesn’t give a shit about that, would bend you over and fuck you right there. Probably for the best then, that you keep him under control.

“How come you wanted to come today?” He asks, trying to get back to his original point.

You shrug, settle back against his chest and hum to yourself as the snowmen on the screen light up and dance.

“I know you leave to go see the kids in what is it, two days?” You ask.

“Yeah.” Pale replies with a frown, not really wanting to be reminded about any of it.

“I thought might be nice to get you in a decent mood before you have to leave. You know, do all the holiday traditional things here since you ain’t gonna have a traditional Christmas down there.” You say, and Pale really does frown then.

“You wanted this…for me?” He asks, turning you around fully now, his chest doin’ something funny.

He ain’t so convinced that you’re not gonna kill him, with the way you make his chest and stomach do these little fuckin’ flips. His brother the doc told him it wasn’t nothin’ to be worried about, but sometimes when you go pullin’ stunts like this, he can’t help but think he’s gonna keel over with whatever this feeling is for you.

He knows, and you know, you know he knows and he knows you know he knows, what the feeling is.

“I wanted it for the both of us.” You say softly, almost drowned out by the music, before gesturing to the whole thing, the whole ordeal of leaving the apartment and venturing out into the snow, into the world. “But yeah, mostly for you.”

He doesn’t know what to do then, doesn’t know what to say. You’re too good for him, way too fuckin’ good. He wanted to tell you that, wanted to shout it and scream it out loud and interrupt the show to let all of the department store know how you’re the real fuckin’ angel.

But he doesn’t, because he doesn’t know how he could ever recover from that, so he just clenches his jaw instead and wills his eyes not to sting from the sudden wave of emotion that hits him from just that simple gesture, that simple wish for him that you had.

“I wish I could bring you down with me, I don’t like the thought of leaving you up here by your fuckin’ self.” Pale says instead, but he really means, _I don’t like the thought of not being with you._

You hear it anyway, and smile sadly, and Pale wants to kill something at the way your eyes are sad like that.

“Maybe one of these years it can happen.” You whisper, and then the show is over, and there’s a thunderous applause, and people start to file out of the department store, off to do their shopping or their packing or their wrapping or who the fuck knows what else.

“Yeah, maybe.” Pale says, holding you tight, not letting you go anywhere just yet, not until he kisses you.

“We gotta cross the street to see the other side. I want a better look at that menorah.” You say when the kiss breaks, and he groans, lights a new cigarette and sticks it between his teeth.

“No.” He replies, but he’s already tugging you along, wanting to give you anything, wanting to give you everything.

You’re too good for him, way too fuckin’ good.

But maybe, just maybe, you think he’s good for you too.

And you do. He doesn’t want to believe it, but.

You do.

_Silver bells, silver bells_

_It's Christmastime in the city_

_Silver bells, silver bells, silver silver bells..._

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last Pale of this small series, I hope you've enjoyed! <3
> 
> This story is part of my 12 Days of Oneshots, where every day leading up to the first night of Hanukkah and Christmas Eve, there will be a short oneshot around 2k in length of our favorite boys! Each oneshot is based off my favorite holiday songs, but you won't know who gets which until the day it's posted!
> 
> Be sure to join in the fun over on my tumblr, where you can see the masterlist for the series and, if you'd like, guess which character gets which song in the upcoming days :)
> 
> Wishing you all very happy holidays this year <333


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